The Seasons of Love
by SiuanSedai
Summary: AU. Miaka decides to leave Tamahome to happiness with Yui, and falls in love with Hotohori. Written for the ficvariations community on livejournal. COMPLETE.
1. Summer Love

"We'll find a way to get him back, Miaka," Hotohori stated quietly, hugging the heartbroken girl close. "I promise." Miaka shook her head; tears which had filled her eyes were set free and spilled down her cheeks.

"No," she said, her voice muffled by Hotohori's heavy tunic.

"What do you mean?" Hotohori asked in confusion.

"No. Let him be. He's happy with Yui, he doesn't want to come back to me," Miaka said, the lump in her throat growing larger and larger until talking became too difficult and she began to sob. "Just… let him go."

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Miaka had cried herself to sleep, standing with her face nestled against Hotohori's chest and his long elegant fingers stroking her hair. Her knees had suddenly collapsed and Hotohori had carried her to his bedroom and laid her down carefully.

Hotohori didn't think she could possibly be comfortable sleeping in her usual clothes, but he didn't want to wake her so she could change. So he removed her shoes and the bracelet she always wore – a multicoloured woven 'friendship bracelet' Yui had made her years ago – and pulled the silk sheet over her legs.

When he was sure Miaka was sleeping comfortably, he walked over to the window. Although it was late – more evening than night, really – the sun was still casting its last rays over the palace gardens. It was a hot, humid summer evening, and Hotohori wished he was ensconced in his bed with the cool sheets caressing him.

Then he turned back to see Miaka shiver. He watched, his heart heavy with the knowledge of her pain, as she buried her head in the pillow and began to cry.

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Miaka jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned over and came face to face with the emperor of Konan.

Hotohori wasn't sure what to say. Being the emperor of Konan, he hadn't had much experience with crying women in his bed.

"Would you like some time alone?" he asked. Miaka shook her head and reached out to him.

"No… stay here with me please," she answered in a choked voice. Hotohori nodded and called for a chair. Sitting down in the embroidered seat, he took Miaka's hand in his and began to trace patterns on it with his index finger.

"Miaka…" he said quietly a few minutes later. Miaka looked at him sleepily. "Don't forget that I love you." Miaka nodded.

"I know," she said.

"Go to sleep now," Hotohori commanded her gently. She nodded again and closed her eyes.

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"Your eminence, his majesty wishes to see you," a servant told Miaka. She grumbled as she got to her feet; she had been lying in a secluded corner of the palace gardens soaking up the sun.

"Summer is not meant to be spent indoors," she muttered to herself. "The sun is the best thing about it, and I have to go inside. Just great."

"You do not like the summer?" Hotohori asked.

"It's too hot to eat nice things like pies and stews! Summer and good stodgy food just don't mix," Miaka complained. Hotohori had to hide his amusement.

"Why don't you join me for lunch out on the balcony. That way you can be outside and eat at the same time," Hotohori suggested. Miaka grinned.

"Sounds good to me," she said cheerfully. "Can we eat now?"

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They hadn't spoken about the night she gave up on Tamahome. Hotohori hadn't wanted to push Miaka, and Miaka had been too nervous to bring the subject of love up with him.

They didn't see each other very often that summer. The hot, humid days of the longest heat wave Konan had seen in years had driven Miaka to lying in a shaded spot near the lake all day, while Hotohori retreated inside the palace to be constantly fanned by his many servants.

When the haze of heat dissipated and autumn crept in on a wave of cool air, Miaka began to spend her days locked up in her room brooding. It was uncharacteristic behaviour for the chipper girl, so much so that after a few days of it Hotohori came to investigate.

He was just about to enter her room when the door opened and she ran straight into him.

"I was about to come and find you," she said breathlessly. Hotohori leaned his head back slightly to look more closely at her face and saw that her eyes were rimmed with red.

"Let us talk privately," he said, and guided her back into the room. "Now. What is this all about?"

"I… I'm sorry," Miaka said. "You told me you loved me and I never said anything back to you, and then you were avoiding me so I couldn't say anything, now you probably hate me and I've fallen in love with you, and –"

"You love me?" Hotohori asked, stopping her mid sentence. Miaka nodded.

"I'm sorry, I know you probably love some other woman now, I shouldn't have told you…" Hotohori cut her off with a kiss.

His kiss was soft and gentle, but passionate and commanding all at once; it matched his personality through and through, Miaka thought. When he broke the kiss, she saw the look of love and possession in his eyes that previously had been muted.

"Marry me," Hotohori said softly. Miaka stared at him in complete shock.

"What?" she said in bemusement.

"Marry me. Be my empress. I love you Miaka, and you love me. I want you to be by my side my entire life," he told her. "We've spent only one summer apart and I know you hated it as much as I did. Please, be my bride." Miaka thought it was probably the first time Hotohori had said please regarding something important to him.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I'll marry you!" She kissed him again, her fingers running through his hair.

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"When will our wedding be?" Miaka asked, resting her head on Hotohori's shoulder.

"Well, you once said you wanted a summer wedding, but summer is almost gone," he said thoughtfully. Miaka sighed.

"I guess we'll have to wait until next summer then," she said. Hotohori smiled.

"Or we could be married within the week, if you wish it to be so," he suggested.

"_Really_?" she said. Hotohori nodded. "Yes, I wish it."

* * *

To be continued :)


	2. Wedding Day

Miaka and Hotohori marry on the last day of summer. It's one of those beautiful days where the sun is shining hotly enough to warm their skin as they stand before their empire, the air has just the slightest suggestion of movement which is enough to keep them cool, and the birds wheeling above are eagles and not pigeons.

As is tradition in Konan, they are married in the morning. They spend the rest of the day in the palace gardens as is also tradition, eating the delicate meals brought to them by servants awed by the love they hold for each other. Miaka sits in front of Hotohori on the ground and leans back on his chest, resplendent in her beautiful silk kimono, and they feed each other and kiss and tell stories as the morning passes into midday.

The heat of summer's end leads them to retreat to the shade, and they sit underneath a large willow tree. They begin to slip into a relaxed doze, but Miaka pinches herself hard to stay awake.

"Relax, sleep," Hotohori says, his voice peaceful. He's found his hope, his joy, his love, and their future together is secure.

"I don't want to," Miaka replies softly. "I don't want to miss out on any part of today." Hotohori opens his eyes and takes her face in his hands.

"Neither do I," he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But… you'll need that rest later, hmm?" Miaka blushes furiously. Hotohori has to focus to make sure he doesn't do the same. He's never been a flirt; he's never wanted to encourage any of the potential brides sent to the palace to attract him, nor has he wanted to start a civil war by making a cheeky comment to the daughter of an overprotective duke. So when he does flirt with Miaka, something he doesn't do often – he loves her too much to want to joke around about that fact – he's always a bit uptight about how the words will be accepted. He's relieved when she giggles and lies her head on his chest.

Hotohori's never lain outside on the grass in summer before. He climbed out of his window and fell asleep outside, once, but that was years ago and his mother gave him such a scolding for behaving like a commoner that he never did it again. So he closes his eyes and takes in everything his senses tell him and just enjoys the experience.

The grass is soft against the exposed skin on his neck; it tickles if he moves just ever so slightly or the light breeze catches it at just the right angle. It has a faint, clean scent, less intense than the smell of cut grass but somehow infinitely more pleasant.

If he listens carefully, Hotohori can hear the quiet noise of insects and birds living life out as usual. It's a sound he's never, ever heard before and he suddenly wonders just how much he doesn't know about the world that has surrounded him all his life. It's a humbling thought and his hands automatically move so that he can run his fingers through Miaka's hair, comforting himself and causing Miaka to make a sleepy noise of contentment that sounds almost like a purr.

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When Miaka awakens in the morning, for a moment she can't think where she is. Then she lets her senses and her memory tell her; she remembers the previous night and feels Hotohori's warm, strong arms around her and she shivers, because even though his body is warm they're naked and the air is too cold to want to be completely bare. Hotohori cracks a sleepy eye open and pulls the sheets up from the bottom of the bed to cover them.

Miaka revels in the feeling of being held tightly against his warm chest and traces his face with her fingers – she touches his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, and plants a playful kiss on his nose. Hotohori's eyes open again and he smiles contentedly.

Their eyes meet and for a few moments they don't move, just revel in the adoration radiating from each other and let the joy of knowing they'll be together forever flow through them. It's a beautiful, amazing feeling and Miaka suddenly realises that salty tears are spilling from her eyes. She feels silly, but Hotohori understands and kisses them away, smiling against her skin.

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They don't leave the room until much later in the day when they're both starving; it's mid afternoon by the time they reluctantly pick out clothes from the huge mahogany wardrobe. Miaka's never worn anything half as fancy as the clothes of an empress – a status that she's definitely going to have to work at getting used to – so she stands in the middle of the room sorting through the various layers of richly coloured material.

She and Hotohori end up dressing each other, making an unpleasant – unpleasant because it marks the end of their wedding – task much more enjoyable, especially when hands get a little playful and caress quickly before returning to the clothes.

"Thick clothes for the end of summer," Miaka comments, realising belatedly that she's wearing three layers and the outer one is a thick, richly embroidered red fabric. Hotohori takes her hands and leads her to the window.

A few golden leaves flutter past the window and are whisked away by the strong breeze. The air is much cooler than yesterday and brings with it a welcome sting, dispelling the humidity of summer. Miaka can see people distantly outside the palace, and they've left their light linen clothing at home in favour of heavier fabric. Summer has well and truly gone, gracefully passing into autumn and sinking away with the last sunset into peace.

Autumn has always been Miaka's favourite season. So even though her stomach is growling and both she and Hotohori know they really should have made an appearance at lunch, let alone afternoon tea, she closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze, and Hotohori, caressing the skin on her face and her arms.

* * *

I'm so sorry this took forever to update, I had this stored on my computer and kept forgetting to upload it. Thanks for the reviews and for the suggestions (which are being written into a chapter as I write this :-) )


	3. Wintry Oracle

"Your majesty, the emperor wishes to see you," a servant said, bowing deeply. Miaka still wasn't used to being called 'your majesty' – 'milady' had been hard enough to adjust to – but every time she heard it she felt a little thrill because it reminded her that Hotohori and she were married now.

In a way, it was odd how quickly she'd fallen out of love with Tamahome. She hadn't forgotten him – the roguish thief would always have a place in her heart as her first love. Her first love, but not her true love – Hotohori was the man who filled that position.

Sometimes Miaka wondered how Tamahome was getting on. Maybe he was married to Yui now. She hoped so. They both needed someone to love, even though they were her enemies. Or maybe they were 'living in sin' – although Miaka knew that if Yui ever heard her say that she'd get slapped. Not that Miaka thought she had much chance of avoiding a slap if she ever met Yui again.

Miaka hurried through the palace, heading towards the temple. It was the middle of winter and absolutely freezing cold, with icy wind and snow to add to her misery. When she entered the temple, brushing the snow from her hair, the first thing she saw was Tai Yi-Jun. It hit Miaka like the proverbial sack of bricks. She was still the priestess of Suzaku, even if she was the empress of Hong Nan now, and she had a duty to her people. A duty which she'd been neglecting.

"Uh oh," she muttered, and wished she hadn't when Tai Yi-Jun turned to face her.

"Well, well, well," the oracle said angrily. "The two of you couldn't possibly wait, could you?"

"Huh?" Miaka said, looking at Hotohori for enlightenment. The only enlightenment she received on the deeper meaning of that statement was when Hotohori's strayed close to his sword, and all that told her was that it was insulting – something Miaka had already figured out. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"The priestess of Suzaku is supposed to be a virgin," Tai Yi-Jun hissed crossly. Miaka stared at her.

"It can't matter all that much, can it? I mean, come on, when I summon Suzaku he's hardly going to ask me 'excuse me, are you a virgin' and refuse to appear if I say no, is he?" Miaka said.

"Apparently you can't summon Suzaku now," Hotohori said quietly. Miaka stared at him.

"I can't summon Suzaku? But – why?" she asked.

"The priestess of Suzaku has to be a virgin," the oracle repeated.

"You couldn't have told me this before?" Miaka snapped at her. "You had to wait three months _after I got married_ to tell me? Did you think perhaps we wouldn't have made love?" Hotohori placed a calming hand on her shoulder; Miaka took a deep breath and settled for glaring at Tai Yi-Jun.

"Gather your celestial warriors," Tai Yi-Jun snapped. Miaka shot a look at Hotohori that begged for help.

"We have had a slight… problems…" Hotohori said.

"Get on with it," Tai Yi-Jun said. _Grumpy, grumpy_, Miaka thought.

"Tamahome was given a love potion and loves Yui now," Miaka said. Although she knew she'd moved on, she was a bit surprised at how little it hurt to say that out loud.

"I know that. Gather the others," Tai Yi-Jun commanded. Miaka scowled and stalked out of the temple, Hotohori following at a more sedate pace.

"Miaka, calm down," he said once they were outside.

"I'm just _really annoyed_ that that stupid hag thinks she can just appear and tell me that I wasn't supposed to make love to you three months after our wedding," Miaka said, clenching her fists. Then she passed out. Hotohori caught her before she fell into the snow.

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Miaka sighed in contentment. She was warm and being held in strong arms which were carrying her somewhere, hopefully somewhere warm. Then she shifted her foot and the cloak that had been hastily wrapped around her slipped, allowing the icy wind to cast its freezing spell upon her. She shivered, which told Hotohori that she was awake.

Hotohori set Miaka down on their bed, and called a servant to bring warm drinks. He took one of the warm towels from where they lay heating on a hot pan and dried her hair, wet from the snow. Miaka relaxed back into the pillows and enjoyed the loving treatment.

"Are you ill?" Hotohori asked when he was sure she wasn't about to come down with a chill. Miaka shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. Hungry, though," she said with a grin. Her face lit up when a servant knocked on the door, bearing food and drink.

Hotohori couldn't stop the grossed-out look making an appearance on his face when he saw that Miaka had piled pickles onto a sardine.

"What?" she asked defensively. Hotohori indicated the food. "Hey, what's wrong with pickles and sardines?"

"Nothing. But I believe that most people eat them separately," Hotohori pointed out. Miaka shrugged.

"Hey, being an empress is supposed to include getting to eat what I want," she said.


	4. Spring Garden

"Aww, how cute," Tasuki teased. Miaka jumped and glared at the seishi; then she returned to carefully brushing Hotohori's long raven hair. It had become something of a reitual: Hotohori spoilt Miaka in every way he possibly could, and once she was thoroughly pampered she'd pander to his vanity and stroke his ego – or, in this case, his hair.

"All done," Miaka announced a few moments later. Tasuki sighed in relief audibly – he wasn't a fan of mushy-gushy displays of affection. At least not when they weren't being directed at him.

"So what's wrong with you anyway?" Tasuki asked bluntly.

"Nothing. I'm absolutely, totally and completely fine, thank you for asking. Actually I'm hungry, could you _pleeeeeease_ go get me some sardines and pickle?" Miaka begged. Tasuki shuddered.

"Tell me I heard that wrong," he begged.

"What is it with you two and hating sardines and pickle?" Miaka demanded. "I _need_ sardines and pickle or I'm going to go completely crazy."

"If you want to eat sardines and pickle you _are_ crazy," Tasuki muttered. "It's not food you need, it's Mitsukake."

"I told you, I'm not ill!" Miaka said. Tasuki shrugged, snorted quietly and left the room.

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"Well? Where are they?" Tai Yi-Jun demanded. Miaka shuffled slightly closer to Hotohori, who wrapped a protective arm around her.

"Erm… about that…" Miaka started. "You probably have some crazy plan for us to go and get Tamahome and try not to get _killed_" – her voice turned slightly bitter, because for all she knew it wasn't his fault she couldn't help but feel a bit resentful –"and that really isn't a good option right now."

"What could possibly be more important than ensuring Konan's survival?" the oracle hissed.

"That's what I'm doing," Miaka retorted. "You wouldn't want the only heir to the throne to die before he was born, would you?"

"You are expecting a child?" Tai Yi-Jun asked.

"Yep!" Miaka said happily. Hotohori smiled at the look of delight that made her face glow. "So, erm, see ya in a few months!" Miaka rushed out of the temple. No need to tempt fate – or angry oracles – to smite her if they happened to be in a smiting mood. Not that Tai Yi-Jun would smite a woman with a baby… Miaka hoped.

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Three months later, Tai Yi-Jun had yet to smite Miaka. Miaka had stopped grossing people out by eating sardines with pickles, and had moved on to eating a whole loaf of bread per day. Well, she was eating for two, and normally she'd have lots at dinner anyway… at least, that was her excuse.

Miaka yawned, and sat down on the grass. The fresh green blades were damp with dew and a spider's web glistened in the morning sunlight. Although it was only spring, the weather was shaping up to be just as hot as the previous year and so it was comfortably warm even early in the morning in March. White snowdrops poked their way up into the sunlight and purple crocuses basked in the warmth of the afternoon.

Miaka felt as if she could identify with spring right now. It was the season of life, of hope, and of growth. It was the season of birth and children and Miaka herself was contributing to that. So for all it wasn't appropriate for the empress to just lie back on the grass and snooze, she did just that.

* * *

I know, I know, I know. Snowdrops and crocuses probably don't grow in Konan seeing as they do in England. But I have no idea what _does_ grow there in spring, so let's just call it a metaphorical description of flowers in general, okay?

One more chapter to go :) Thank you so much for the reviews, they make me happy!


	5. Autumn Baby

Summer came, and with it brought an even hotter heat wave than the previous year. Miaka had never been a fan of the season of sun, preferring instead the times when she could have custard instead of salad dressing, pie instead of sorbet and stew as opposed to lettuce. But however much she considered begging Tai Yi-Jun to make the weather a little more acceptable, she couldn't quite get up the courage to confront the ugly oracle. Not until her baby was safely born.

Miaka had never hated summer quite as much as she did at the beginning of September on what was supposed to be the last day of summer – her first wedding anniversary. A heat wave is never enjoyable when it lasts more than a week or two, and being eight and a half months pregnant made it much, much worse. Miaka thought frequently that if Hotohori didn't have a country to rule, she'd persuade him to relocate to somewhere nice and icy cold. Although in the Universe of the Four Gods, such places were uncommon. Miaka made a mental note to find Tai Yi-Jun's smiting stick and use it against the hag.

_I should curb these violent thoughts_, Miaka mused. _I can't be mean and motherly at the same time, and I'd much rather be motherly_. She didn't know what Konan's ideas about how much the empress should care for her child were, and she didn't intend to find out. Hotohori's mother had been cold and impersonal towards him, and Miaka had no intention of treating her own baby in such a way. If there was an unwritten rule that she wasn't supposed to spend twenty-five hours a day cooing over her child, she didn't want to know. If she didn't know the rule, she couldn't follow it.

Rules weren't the only thing Miaka tried not to think about. There were a myriad of things she feared, and rules were the least of them. She worried that she wouldn't be a good mother, she was scared out of her mind at the thought of actually giving birth – no matter how much she wanted to meet her baby – and she tried to avoid thinking about her role as Priestess, because every time she remembered why she was in this world in the first place she felt a horrible stab of guilt.

_It's not my fault_, she told herself. _I couldn't have known, and what could I have done once I got pregnant? And I'm in a book, so the future must already have been written. I'm not changing anything from how it's supposed to be_. But the thoughts seemed weak to her, weak and pathetic excuses meant to let her duck out from a chore.

_Being the Priestess isn't a chore_, she scolded herself. _Look where it got me. I wound up with Hotohori and the others and they have really good food here. _

Thinking about food made Miaka's stomach rumble, but then a sharp pain distracted her from all thoughts of food.

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It was exactly one year since Miaka had woken up in Hotohori's arms for the first time. As with the previous year, summer and heat wave had vanished overnight and the slight chill of the air heralded the arrival of autumn.

And as Miaka lay back with her newborn son in her arms and rested her head on Hotohori's shoulder and exhaustedly watched him kiss their son's forehead gently, she could hear the trumpets outside announcing the birth of an heir.

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I am so, so sorry for the terrible ending. I've been trying to figure out how to end it for ages now, because I don't think I could write anything much longer without descending into ramble. Five chapters are hard enough, thanks :P For all of you that asked me what would happen with the whole not being able to summon Suzaku thing, I am so sorry. I ran out of ideas, which isn't all that surprising as when I started writing this I didn't intend to make it any more than a series of connected ficlets written for a challenge. I toyed with the idea of the baby's birth destroying Seiryu in some weird and wonderful way, but I couldn't make it work. Please don't send the Mafia after me!

Thank you so much for all the reviews :-D


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